


You Get What You Need

by a2zmom



Series: Saving the World [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Irony, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a2zmom/pseuds/a2zmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When doing the right thing is also the wrong thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Get What You Need

Angel was 15 miles out of Chicago, but it could just as easily been fifteen miles out of Portland. The air had the same stale quality that every suburban housing development seemed to share. Maybe it was the amount of car exhaust versus trees. This was the third night in a row that Angel had patiently waited in the narrow strip of grass that separated houses here. This time his patience was rewarded when the back door opened and the girl silently crept out.

He watched as she stopped suddenly, carefully looking around. She had likely sensed him, but he wasn't worried. He was too far away and too well hidden for her to actually discover him. Finally, she relaxed and began to walk purposefully down the block. He already knew where she was headed and went off in a different direction in order to meet her there.

Angel wondered what he would do in her position. Continue on, as she was doing? Or would he hide away, in an attempt to cheat fate. Maybe she knew it wouldn't make a difference. He closed his eyes for a second, knowing exactly where his thoughts were headed. He couldn't face it, not at the moment. Instead he used every meditative trick he knew to empty his mind. As soon as he was outside the tract of houses, he headed for the side streets and back roads that would get him to his destination without fear of running into her.

Twenty minutes later, Angel was fifty yards away from the entrance of an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. It wasn't long before he was no longer alone. He had heard her car coming to a stop, even though she had parked it several blocks away. He watched as she peered into one of the filthy windows, squaring her shoulders before she kicked the door open and ran inside. A moment later, he looked through the same window.

Three hulking Trask demons were attacking, but the slayer was fast and kept out of their range. She was smart, throwing a fast punch and then retreating out of range. Even so, she took a few hits and one slam to her side that seemed to daze her for an instant before she spun around and launched a snap kick at one of three.

He silently watched as the last demon crashed to the floor, courtesy of a stake through the eye. She was good, no doubt about it. Bent over, hands on her knees, he watched as her breathing began to calm. Crossing the street, he melted back into the shadows, waiting for her to leave the building.

Keeping back a good fifty yards, he waited until she beeped her car door open. At that point, he began to not only speed up, but made sure his footfalls were suddenly obvious in the quiet of the night. He watched as she momentarily paused, then continued, then stopped again as his steps got closer. Finally, she turned around while he kept walking, spotting the exact moment she had his face in her sights and recognition dawned.

"You." She was surprised but her stance didn't waver. It didn't waver. He could smell the fear that started to weave around her, holding her close.

He didn't answer, merely took the opportunity to examine her up close. She was twenty at most, likely younger. Her reddish-brown, thick hair was a mass of untamed curls and during the humid days of summer, it was probably an uncontrollable frizzy ball. Her chin was square and her mouth a bit too wide for her face, putting her on the wrong side of pretty. But there was a lively intelligence in her eyes and he liked the defiant set of her shoulders.

"They said you were in Africa."

He lifted one shoulder and let it fall back down, in a gesture that was half casual, half contemptuous. "They were wrong."

"Why are you here?" This time her voice did waver a tiny bit, but Angel couldn't blame her.

"You know why," his tone a gentle caress.

She threw herself at him with a fierce cry.

 _He checks the address again because he finds it hard to believe that this rundown apartment building in the middle of The Bronx has what he needs. An empty fast food drink cup tumbles by as he makes his way to the front door. There is a lobby and he guesses that once it was, if not elegant, at least homey. Now the wallpaper is peeling at the corners and one of the light bulbs overhead is out. The building has fallen on hard times_

 _The elevator slowly brings him to the fourth floor. Angel can hear every groan of the cables, as the elevator slowly lurches to a stop. It a far cry from the smooth twenty second ride to the penthouse he used to take at Wolfram and Hart. Of course, back then, he thought that he had fallen as low as he could fall, that if he survived, he'd never have to compromise his principles again._

 _He should have known better._

 _As soon as he rings the buzzer, the door opens revealing a young woman in her mid-twenties. She's wearing a worn-out gray t-shirt that says "You never know". Her hair is black and cut fashionably short; her bare feet have metallic blue toenails. She's looks like thousands of girls, there's nothing that stands out about her looks. But her eyes are dark and knowing and Angel feels nonplussed by their scrutiny._

 _"I see you've finally arrived, Angelus. Call me Mirela."_

 _It's rare for anyone to catch him off guard. It's one reason he's survived so long. But this seemingly harmless woman has managed just that and for a long moment it's all he can do to just stare at her in open mouthed shock. Finally, he gathers his wits._

 _"The name is Angel and has been for a long time."_

 _She gazes at him and her searching look holds more than a bit of disdain. "Perhaps that's what your friends believe, but you and I both know better. Come on in."_

 _He hesitates, uncertain about exactly what he's doing for the first time since he decided on this course of action When he finally steps across the threshold he almost gasps at the sheer power he feels swirling about him._

 _"Do you know who I am?" She asks, arms crossed over her chest._

 _For a moment, Angel thinks it might be better to lie. But then, he thinks that she surely knows what he knows and that telling the truth would be better. "You're Rom, of the Kalderash tribe."_

 _"And yet, you showed up here anyway? Pretty ballsy," she notes dryly._

 _"No one else could help me. I was hoping you wouldn't know who I was."_

 _Smiling, she reminds Angel of dangerous animals that lay hidden in the grass. "I'll help you. You need to stay hidden so that you can do your work." She gives him a smug look. "Fortunately, that's not a problem for me."_

 _"Why are you doing this?" His unease grows and for good reason. "I thought your people only cared about revenge when it came to me."_

 _"You're the world's champion, aren't you?"_

 _Angel is positive he's being mocked. "I'm trying to save the world," he cautiously states._

 _"I'm aware of what you're up to. All those girls. All that power. The world is unbalanced, but you're going to right it."_

 _And that's when he decides this is a terrible idea. He opens his mouth to tell her he's changed his mind, thanks, but no thanks, but before he can, she begins chanting. His tongue is thick and useless in his mouth, all speech gone. He's forced to his knees as his skin starts to glow and burn. Tears spring to his eyes as he throws his head back in a silent scream. When the pain finally ends, he find his chest heaving, gasping for air he doesn't require._

 _"All done." Her grim smile causes Angel to shiver. "Sometimes you don't get what you want," pointing to herself. "The greater good and all that."_

 _Angel can't deny that she's done exactly what he needed. He's undetectable by any spell cast. And yet he's positive that she knows more than she's letting on and in the end, she and her people will get their pound of flesh._

It was over in minutes. The slayer was a good fighter, but she was already tired and her fear led to mistakes. Angel had deliberately waited until after she had finished the exhausting battle, he had long ago given up the notion of a fair fight. When he saw an opening, he roughly pulled her against him. He no longer apologized or tried to explain or promised a painless death. They were pointless words.

She was quivering against him, heart pounding. Buffy used to do the same, a prelude to sweet kisses and shy caresses. That was a lifetime ago. His right arm was against her upper chest, keeping her body flush against him. Slowly his left hand traced up her side, his fingertips trailing along her ribs. His hand kept moving, touching the back of her neck, soft tender skin covered with a sheen of sweat. His fingers tentatively touched her scalp, sifting her hair, noting almost absently that her shampoo smelled like violets. His movements were languid, and for a moment his thoughts drifted, thinking about the power he held in his arms.

His right arm released her from his steel grip but before she could react to the sudden freedom, his hand was under her chin, the motion swift, the familiar crack assuring him that she was dead. He caught her before she touched the ground, shifting so that he cradled her against him. From a distance it could have been a parent carrying a sleepy child. Her head lolled a little, as the scent of her blood rose up, hot and sweet. His nostrils flared, letting it envelop him. He gritted his teeth against the ache of want. He refused to defile her like that even as the perfume of girl and magic threatened his control.

Angel walked down a side street until he found a spot over gown with weeds. He carefully laid her down, smoothing the hair away from her face as he did so. He bent down and patted her pockets, removing her cell phone, wallet, car keys and weapons. "Cindy May Weathers" said her driver's license. It seemed such a childish name for a warrior. Angel made sure there was a contact number before he replaced the wallet.

Staring at her face, he felt the reproach in her sightless eyes. He gently closed them and then, commended her spirit to the afterlife, his lips moving soundlessly. While he doubted that God had any use for him, he knew that Cindy's soul would reside in Heaven where she belonged.

He then left her, quickly walking a few blocks over. There were several overflowing garbage cans at the end of an alley and a discarded packing crate next to it. Angel reached inside the box and pulled out the rucksack he had hidden there. It held all his current possessions and he was glad it had remained undisturbed. He doubled back to Cindy's car and drove away, arriving at her home in a matter of minutes.

Her house was clean, a small two bedroom ranch. His plan was to crash here tonight, then leave for Africa tomorrow. He was aware that Buffy would be waiting for him. Truthfully, he was surprised that she hadn't caught up to him long before. He knew better than to lie to himself and pretend that it was because she didn't want to deal with him. He had been both smart and lucky, that was all.

The living room was a cheerful affair, decorated in spring green and dusty pink. He picked up a photo on the side table that showed an older, smiling couple. Her parents he guessed as he felt that familiar, all encompassing guilt. He put it down and headed to the entrance of the master bedroom. The other bedroom had been turned into an office, so if he wanted to sleep, this was his only choice. He needed to sleep; the last time he had closed his eyes had been three days ago. But he didn't want to. He used to think that dreams about the time he had spent in Acathala's hell dimension had been more than he could stand. Now he wished he could dream about being tortured, it would be a pleasant diversion. Instead he saw the faces of the slayers he had killed. So many girls cut down in their prime.

Angel wondered if this was what Judas had felt like, knowing that his role was to be the betrayer and that there was nothing to be done about it. He had been sent a vision of the world ending, demons rampaging and killing people indiscriminately. The worst part had been seeing his own snarling vampire visage in place leading the charge.

All of his free time after that had been spent researching, reading ever more archaic and dusty books, visiting mystics, even getting Connor to check out some things in the internet. It all led to the same conclusion. The calling of the extra slayers had thrown the magic balance out of whack and demons were getting stronger by the day due to a magical backwash.

There was only one solution.

He hadn't been surprised when Buffy had adamantly refused to see things his way. In fact, he had been relieved. Killing these girls was killing his soul, deadening him more than being a vampire ever had. He didn't want to see Buffy become like him.

He chucked off his boots and then pulled his sweater over his head. The sigils and glyphs that Mirela had placed on every inch of his arms and upper body still made him look away, even though years had passed. While they prevented Willow from homing in on him, they also served as a constant reminder of exactly what he'd become.

Lying down on the bed, Angel couldn't help but notice Cindy's lingering scent. As soon as he closed his eyes, the life he stole from her began to play out. He sat up with a hoarse cry. He would attempt sleep later. For now he would go out again. Find a demon to kill.

Sitting up, sudden excruciating pain literally knocked him to the floor. It seared through him as if his very insides were burning up. His eyes watered from the intensity. "No," he moaned. He knew this particular agony. He had gone through it twice before. The image of him leading an army of demons flitted through his mind. He tried to lift himself from the floor. He had seen a stake on the nightstand; all he had to do was reach it. He pushed himself up inch by torturous inch. He had almost lifted himself up onto the bed, when sudden blackness descended.

Blinking his eyes, Angel sat up, completely disoriented. Where was he and why was he on the floor? He was just about to stand when a white hot pain caused him to double over. Instinctively wrapping his arms around his abdomen, he moaned as the pain hit again. He started to gag and suddenly realized what was happening. He scuttled out of the room, in a crouched position and seconds later, fell to his knees. Gripping the sides of the bowl, he vomited again and again, his stomach spasming painfully. Finally finished, he closed his eyes and slumped to the side, his head resting against the cool porcelain of the sink. A minute later, he lifted his head, still feeling woozy. The toilet was full of dark brownish-red liquid. Blood. Looking at it, he felt his gut lurch again and quickly bent over the bowl once more. This time, only a small bit of bile came up.

Another minute passed. Angel felt marginally better as he slowly stood up, using the sink for leverage. The man staring back at him was hollow-eyed, the dark circles underneath making plain the lack of sleep. The dark hair was disheveled, the skin tone gray under the ivory pallor. His eyes widened as his index finger lurched to the side of his neck, finding the tell tale pulse.

Shanshu. Wes had stated that the vampire with a soul would be granted his humanity after averting the end of days. His legs buckled and he landed hard on the tile floor. An hysterical, high pitched giggle escaped from his throat. Then another one. Angel kept laughing until he choked. He shuddered and then, as if a switch had been flipped, he began to sob, a horrible, strangled sound.

Angel had dreamed of being human. Of being forgiven. But not like this. He had saved the world and the cost had been been everyone he had ever cared about. Even Connor was hunting for him.

The tears slowly petered out. He hadn't lost control of his emotions like that since he'd been a child. He wiped his hand over his face, than wiped it against his pants, transferring tears and snot. He should stand and rinse his mouth out, but he didn't have the energy.

The last two extra slayers must have died in battle. He couldn't conjure up any feeling besides a vague sense of relief that it hadn't been him.

The tile floor was cold against his back, but he still didn't move. After all the extra slayers had been removed, he had planned to spend his days hunting demons. Not to gain redemption. How could he be redeemed after hunting down and killing over 800 girls? But he knew that he owed them that much.

Now that option was taken away from him. Obviously there were humans that fought demons successfully, but he had spent over two hundred years relying on supernatural strength and speed.  
He had no idea how to fight as just a human.

More than that. He had no idea how to live as a regular man.

He used to dream about being human and sharing his life with Buffy. Then it had changed and he dreamed about a life with Cordelia and his new-born son. But eventually, he had realized the futility of it all. He was never going to be forgiven.

Except now the Powers had forgiven him. And it didn't matter because no one else ever would. As a vampire, he lived on the margins of society. As a human, he was going to have to figure out how to do the same thing because his fingerprints were all over hundreds of murder scenes. The only person who could help him was a person who he could never speak to again.

Angel slowly stood. He had to be out of here before the police showed up. Turning on the cold water tap, he cupped his hands and drink a bit of water, swishing it around and spitting it out in an effort to get the foul taste out of his mouth.

It only took minutes for him to get dressed and gather up his meager belongings. He stepped outside and felt the sun on his skin, wondering if he'd ever feel warm. Somewhere he suspected Mirela was laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> Third in the series "Saving the World". Speculation for Buffy season 8.


End file.
